


It Was an Accident

by LetMeEntertainYou



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Choking, Fluff, M/M, REM sleep behavior disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 22:53:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19451152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetMeEntertainYou/pseuds/LetMeEntertainYou
Summary: “What’s wrong?” Roger repeated, his stomach churning with nerves. He was completely puzzled at this situation and John’s quiet sniffling wasn’t helping.His confusion and terror only grew when John came close enough for the lamp to light him up.John’s neck had a thick, angry, purple and blue ring around it. He rubbed his eyes that kept leaking.





	It Was an Accident

**Author's Note:**

> My blog is Disabled-Queen-HC on tumblr.  
> Anon asked: Could you do a Joger REM sleep behavior disorder fic where Roger accidentally hurts/almost hurts John while he is dreaming? Maybe light angst, probably guilt, with a happy ending? Sending you lots of hugs, friend! Your blog really makes my day!

Roger’s eyes fluttered open, squinting at the light the beside lamp was giving off. Why was it on? 

He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he noticed a few things.

All the blankets were on the floor.

John wasn’t sleeping next to him.

And his wrists hurt.

Roger looked down at his wrists, going a little woozy when he saw the reason for their discomfort. They were bruised. He touched his fingers gently to the blue marks on his wrist, wincing when he pressed down too hard on them. Where the hell did this come from?

He looked up when he heard a sniffle from the far side of the room. Barely illuminated by the lamp was John, sitting on the other side of the room in the recliner, his hands rubbing at his neck.

Confused, head tilted, Roger asked, “What’s happened?” His brain was still fogged with sleep, unable to think clearly about what he was seeing. All he knew was that his wrists _really_ hurt.

Roger could make out John smiling but it wasn’t a happy one. “I’m not sure myself,” he said, his voice thick, as if he had been crying. 

“What’s wrong, Deacy?” Roger said, shaking his head to wake up further. He tried to stand up, but John waved him to stop and stay. He stood up instead and crossed the room, wiping at his eyes, wiping away what seemed to be tears.

“What’s wrong?” Roger repeated, his stomach churning with nerves. He was completely puzzled at this situation and John’s quiet sniffling wasn’t helping.

His confusion and terror only grew when John came close enough for the lamp to light him up.

John’s neck had a thick, angry, purple and blue ring around it. He rubbed his eyes that kept leaking.

“John, what _is_ that?” Roger shrieked, getting up to inspect his boyfriend’s neck. At this point, he was assuming some sort of demon had come into their room and bruised the both of them.

John took a step back from him, visibly shaken. “Promise you won’t get upset,” he said, his voice trembling just like his hands were when he reached out for Roger’s. John’s plea didn’t soothe Roger in the slightest, only making him more wound up.

“What? Why? John, what’s happening?”

“I-I’m only crying ‘cus I got scared, okay? I couldn’t breathe and I got nervous. I’m not mad. I’m not. I just panicked is all,” John said, his eyes watering more. He did’t want to say it out loud. It made him want to vomit and he could only imagine how Roger would feel once he got it all out. Roger squeezed his hands, inpatient to know what was going on.

“Uh, you started to, uh, c-choke me. In your sleep. Um, really hard. You wouldn’t let g-go. I tried grabbing your wrists but your stronger than me, I guess. Uh, you only let go when I slapped you. Sorry. Uh, It’s fine, though. I’m not mad, Roger. Just, um, got scared when I couldn’t breathe and yeah,” John stuttered out, looking down at his feet as he spoke.

Roger paled, his train of thought going suddenly blank. He knew he didn’t misunderstand what John had just said, but he so desperately wish he had. 

He..choked John..in his sleep? He choked a sleeping John. While he too was sleeping.

He had nothing constructive to say as his brain processed something that sounded too horrible to be true. He simply asked, “I choked you…?”

John nodded, letting go of Roger’s hands to touch his neck, which must’ve been aching.

Roger had to collect himself, or else he’d be standing in shock all night. He took in a deep breath, forcing himself to act.

“John, my god. I am so sorry. You know I would never-” Roger was interrupted.

“N-No, no, I know it was an accident. You had your eyes closed the whole time. Mumbling something about spies or whatever,” John said, waving a dismissive hand that shook like a leaf. He was trying to calm himself down, but waking up to a lack of air with your boyfriend’s fingers squeezing your windpipe shut would make anyone have a full blown anxiety attack.

“Still, John. This is..fucked up. I’m so sorry. So sorry. Come, sit down. Please,” Roger said, trying to get John to sit on the bed. He couldn’t wrap his mind around this, having absolutely no memory of this or even any memories of the dreams he had while sleeping, but the evidence was all there. 

Roger pulled John into a tight hug, rubbing his back and whispering apologies, waiting for John’s panic to subside. 

“It’s okay. I’m so sorry, baby. So so sorry. This won’t happen again, okay? I promise,” Roger mumbled into John’s hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. John slumped against him, his breathing finally going back to normal, his trembling stopping. 

Once John seemed settled, Roger made him lay down, running downstairs to fetch him some ice for his neck. Alone in the dark kitchen at 3am, he hunched over, his own heart still pounding away. He felt so guilty, so disgusting, so _confused_. He wasn’t sure how the hell this happened, but it wouldn’t ever again. He’d be sure of it. The thought of hurting John made him sick. Hurting John _again_? It made him want to die.

Roger gathered himself, getting the ice and putting it in a baggy, going back to his bedroom.

He felt so undeserving when John smiled at him, his puffy eyes getting less swollen, but his neck only becoming even more colorful and irritated.

He pressed the ice bag to where John’s neck looked the worst, his free hand caressing John’s cheek.

“I’m not mad, you know. It was an accident, Rog. Don’t feel bad,” John said, taking a hold of Roger’s hand and kissing the bruise on his wrist.

“I know it was. Doesn’t mean it’s okay. What if I didn’t let go, John? I could’ve k-”

“But you didn’t. I’m fine,” John said, scooting over in bed to make room for Roger. “Come. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Roger reeled at the invitation, shaking his head madly. “Absolutely **not**. I have no idea what happened. I won’t put you at risk until I know what’s up with me,” Roger said sternly. He’d call the doctors in the morning. And until they could give him an answer, he would refuse to sleep in the same bed as John. No matter how much John pouted about it.

“I’ll be so lonely,” John said, frowning. 

“Lonely, but breathing,” Roger quipped. He handed over the ice bag so John could hold it himself. “Plus, I can do this,” he added, going across the room to drag the recliner over to the bed. He kept it out of arm’s reach from the bed. Just in case.

“See? Not lonely,” he said with a little smile.

John huffed, but agreed. It was for the best. He genuinely didn’t want a wake up call like that again.

He yawned, getting snuggled up in bed. Roger did the same in his recliner.

“I love you, John,” Roger said, reaching his hand out for John. John reached his out too, their fingers barely able to lace together.

“I love you too, Rog.”


End file.
